Everyone Has Secrets
by Keryl Raist
Summary: Everyone has things they'd rather the rest of the world doesn't know. And most people have the good grace to be sensitive to that. Of course Sherlock Holmes is not most people, and when Gibbs makes a very bad request, "Tell me something I don't know," they all come tumbling out.
1. Chapter 1

"Leon…" Gibbs said, staring at his boss, leaning against the railing overlooking the bullpen, hoping beyond hope the tall, dark, pale and annoying man downstairs isn't someone he has to work with.

Leon's look answers him, but he adds the words just to make sure the idea is clear. "You are stuck. You've had three weeks and have gotten no closer to unstuck. You need fresh eyes and supposedly those are the best eyes on the planet."

"What the hell is a consulting detective, anyway?"

"I believe it's British for massive pain in the ass. And since the vic is British, and since they've got their panties in a twist, and since we are stuck, you are going to let him help."

"Fine." They headed down to meet the consulting detective.

"Sherlock Holmes, Leroy Jethro Gibbs." Introductions made, Vance settled in, leaning against Ziva's desk, to watch the fireworks.

Sherlock looked at Gibbs, then looked at Vance, and said, "No wonder you haven't gotten anywhere with this."

Vance raised an eyebrow.

"Your lead investigator is an out-of-touch, technophobic, borderline alcoholic, caffeine junky, with severe authority issues." Sherlock stood between Gibbs and Vance so he can't see Gibbs shrug at that. Not like he's wrong.

"Gibbs has the highest solved case rate in this agency."

Sherlock turned to Gibbs and looked him up and down, disdain radiating off of every inch of his body. "Because most criminals are easily intimidated idiots who can be stared into submission by a properly trained alpha personality. Alpha personality type, honed by the Marines, made sharper by personal loss, and a constant need for vengeance. I imagine that many men find being stared at by him deeply disturbing, and five minutes in will say anything to make it stop. A case requiring actual brains would be entirely out of his league."

Gibbs raised his eyebrow this time. "And you've got those brains?"

"And then some."

"Tell me something I don't know."

Sherlock glanced around the bullpen.

"Your second-in-command is sleeping with the Israeli."

"Knew that."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, surprised to know the older man knows that.

Gibbs nodded. He's known about it for the whole six months it had been going on.

Vance looks from DiNozzo to Ziva, shocked, he had not known, suspected, sure, but known, nope.

"She's pregnant."

"Knew that, too."

Vance's eyes went wider.

Ziva started to stand, and Vance put a hand on her shoulder. The British Ambassador was already annoyed with them on this case, killing the consulting detective less than thirty seconds after he arrived was not going to make anything better.

"Yes, but I didn't know that!" Tony said, looking like the combination of fear and anger coursing through him right now might be enough to make him stroke out. "Go tell someone else's secrets.

Sherlock looked at Tim. Tim's eyes went wide, more or less begging Sherlock not to say whatever he might be seeing.

"Tech Support is terrified I'll tell his secrets."

"Knew that. Probably know the secrets, too."

"Boss…" Tim said, glancing at him for help.

"Terrified I'll let the Second-in-Command know." He glanced at Tony. "Interesting, he doesn't know. Big Boss doesn't, either. But you and the Israeli do. Tension between those two. Second-in-Command used to bully Tech Support. Not a shock really, too many homoerotic feelings for the alpha male for him to deal with, no good outlet for them, so he bullies the only beta male he has easy access to." Sherlock turns to Tony, "All male boarding schools, competitive sports, and your entire adult life in law enforcement. Lost your virginity to another boy when you were fourteen… fifteen. Spent the next twenty-five years sleeping with every woman you could get to prove to yourself you were straight. Five years ago came to terms with being bi, but judging from the way the Israeli is staring at me you haven't mentioned it to her, yet. "

"I have a name," Tony said, jaw clenched, vein throbbing at his temple.

"Of course you do, but it's boring, and I'll forget it in ten seconds."

"You still haven't come up with anything I haven't already found out for myself," Gibbs said.

"Boss!" Tony said. Gibbs shrugged a little, of course he knew Tony had a crush on him. They can deal with it later.

"Five minutes ago, you didn't know I could read your team as well as you do just by glancing at them. It took you what, a year for Second-in-Command, a few weeks for the Israeli because she's a kindred spirit, and closer to four years for Tech Support, but only because he's better at blending into the woodwork than you are at seeing everything, to read them that well."

Gibbs nodded.

Abby chose that moment to come up. "Hey Gibbs, I heard—"

Sherlock took one look at Abby, glanced up and down, taking in her outfit and then said, "And she's the cause of the love bite Tech Support is hiding on his neck."

Tony snorted, and looked at Tim. Jokes, he can make jokes and get this back to something he can handle. "That's your big secret?"

Sherlock turned to him. "Of course not. That's the only one he doesn't mind you knowing about. It's the matching nipple rings he doesn't want you to find out about."

Tony just stared at Tim, dumbfounded. Would have been funny if Vance, Ziva, and Gibbs weren't doing it, too. Tim did his best to not spontaneously combust from embarrassment, while Abby came over to him, took his hand, and beamed a smile at everyone.

Meanwhile, Gibbs was staring at Sherlock. The nipple rings must be awfully new, because he didn't know about them, yet. Abby usually tells him stuff like that. He looked both Tim and Abby over very carefully, trying to figure out what Sherlock saw, but for the life of him he can't find it. Course, he also doesn't want to be looking at either of their chests that carefully.

Gibbs was, against his will, impressed by this.

And Sherlock was reading Gibbs. "You didn't know about the rings? Not surprising, they've had them for less than a day. So it's just the relationship you and the Israeli know about, then?"

Gibbs nodded.

"You knew?"

"Of course, McGee."

"How long?"

"Since before you asked her out for the first time," Sherlock answered. "The only reason everyone in the universe doesn't know everything there is to know about you is that you blend into the background so well no one bothers to really look. And of course, you spent your whole life dealing with different versions of Second In Command, so hiding in plain sight is a defense mechanism for you. But given you're married to the Goth, apparently your natural inclination is to be more visible."

"Married!" Tony said loudly. _Thank you God! Something other than me for everyone to pay attention to!_

"Of course they're married. Anniversary was Sunday, hence the rings. Aren't you paying attention, at all? It's perfectly easy to see if you just look."

"Then I'm blind. What are you seeing?"

"Goth girl is wearing a bra, but it's not quite the right size, she isn't comfortable in it. So why is she wearing it? Left nipple area is slightly larger than right, something happened there. Tech Support is similarly lopsided today, and also wearing a t-shirt under his button up. Padding is likely from some sort of bandage. One of them might be anything, both of them, same nipple, means a piercing. Goth Girl might do it for kicks, but Tech Support isn't that guy. He's not into piercings, at least not on him. If they both have them, it's important to him. Boss and the Israeli both know about the relationship, so it's not new. They've been keeping the relationship a secret, can't wear a traditional ring, but they got rings, not bars, so married, not just long term. Did it yesterday, so anniversary. Plain now?"

"Uh, yeah. How long?" Tony asked Tim.

Tim looked at Abby, making sure she's okay with him talking about it. She nodded. "Five together. Three married."

"Why would you keep that secret?"

Tim and Abby stared at Gibbs. Tim stood up and leaned against his desk, arms crossed. Sure, he's not enjoying being laid open in front of everyone, but he's also probably got the least to hide. He doesn't want Sherlock getting into the depths of Gibbs or Ziva's life. And even if Abby might not have any dark secrets, he's not interested in seeing her get read like an open book, either. Time to take control of this. "You know all about me just at a glance, huh?"

"Yes Tech Support, you're painfully obvious."

"Well then, fire away. I bet I've got at least three secrets you can't figure out."

"Please. Let's start here, you obviously have daddy issues coming out the ears. Otherwise you wouldn't be keeping your marriage a secret. You're here, in this job, even though you're unsuited for it, because you've latched onto Gibbs as a stand in father. The relationship doesn't entirely work for you, you're still pretty scared of him, but it's light years better than the one you have with your real father.

"Your real father is another version of Second In Command and the reason why you can make yourself invisible at will. Don't have to fight with him if he doesn't notice you. He's horribly disappointed in you because, as smart as you are, and from what I can see, besides Goth girl, you're the only one in this group with three brain cells to rub together, you didn't go career military. You're here, so he's Navy or Marines, some sort of command rank, and this was your last olive branch to him. It didn't work."

"That all?" Tim was wearing his best _I'm not impressed_ look, though really, he was. Granted, he knew Sherlock had already gotten something wrong, so it's not like the man's infallible, and that made standing there, taking it, looking bland and unconcerned easier.

"Left handed. The computer work you do here is too easy for you. You had a bagel and banana for breakfast. You practice with your gun at least an hour a week, Goth Girl goes with you, and you're both very good shots. The skull on your wall behind you is a present from her. You've lost a lot of weight recently, probably stopped drinking, too. You and the Goth are working on getting pregnant, so you're both taking better care of yourselves these days, but you still smoke when no one is looking, 'bout a pack a month, though she knows about that. You're a gamer, fantasy instead of first person shooters, most of the time, and you have a dog… German Shepard… or something similarly large and brown and black, at home."

"Uh huh? Anything else?"

"You're afraid of dogs. Your Goth is the reason you've got one. You're actually afraid of a lot of things, but like standing up here and keeping my attention right now, you'll do things you're afraid of if you think it'll work out well for others. Which makes me think you don't have any real secrets but the people around you do."

"Still haven't hit anything that anyone here couldn't have told you."

"You're an only child. Your father is horribly disappointed in you."

"Covered that already."

"Your mother is estranged, but mostly because your life revolves so much around your work here. You don't have any issues with her besides the fact that she didn't do enough to shield you from your father."

Tim shrugged.

"You prefer rock and roll. Your mild demeanor camouflage, how you blend into the background. You like sex in public, leather trousers, own and wear your own makeup, and on your off time look a whole lot more like Goth Girl than you do now."

"Duh."

"You have at least two tattoos."

"Now you're just guessing."

"At least one was to impress her and one was for you and there's a third one either in the works or recently applied. One of them is stupid and generic, but as you got more comfortable with it, they became a real reflection of you."

"Five. Are you done?" Tim asks.

Sherlock nods.

"One, I'm a best-selling author, three times over now. Two, no nipple rings, no piercings for either of us, we got new tattoos yesterday. Three, sure, I like rock and roll, but prefer jazz, electronic funk, or technica and since you notice everything I'm going to assume you just don't know what Venetian Snares is because obviously you saw it on the wall behind my desk. Four, I've got a younger sister. Meanwhile I don't see or notice everything, but I do know you've got no social filters, you're some sort of Savant, probably with Aspergers because you're too verbal for full on Autism, and if I let Abby go, she'll dissect your whole life in front of everyone starting with the fact that you've got an older sibling who's overshadowed you your whole life and ending with the fact that you're the family black sheep and no matter how smart you are you embarrass the hell out of them."

He nods to Abby, and she fishes his pack of cigs from the bottom drawer of his desk and hands it to him. Then he tossed it to Sherlock.

"Keep them. You can't smoke in here, but I'm hoping that if you break that rule, you'll be significantly less of a jerk."

Sherlock just stared at Tim.

"Secret number five, and this is really for my team, I read John's Blog and have known exactly who you are since you set foot in here. Though I'm wondering where the hell he is because from everything I can see they don't let you out without him because he keeps you from doing things like this."

Sherlock winced.

And that shocked the entire team.

And then something fell into place. Abby was googling before Tim even had the chance to say it to her, and they both noticed the same thing at the same time. The last update on John Watson's blog was the day before the British John Doe in the morgue was found dead on the USS Simpson.

Abby and Tim looked at each other, and the other three felt the wave of dread and sympathy from them.

"Come on Sherlock, I'll take you down to Ducky," Abby said.

"What the hell was that, McGee?" Gibbs asked as Abby escorted Sherlock toward the elevator.

Tim rubbed his forehead. "If we're very lucky, that's not Abby taking Sherlock down to identify John Watson. If we aren't, then we don't have to worry about this case anymore because if that is John on the slab down there, Sherlock is going to kill everyone who had anything to do with his death, and then he'll get bored and start blowing things up for kicks."

"McGee?" Gibbs asked, not sure if Tim is being dramatic or not.

"Just hope, really, really hope that it's not John Watson down there."

"On a scale of one to oh shit, how bad is this?" Tony asked.

"If that's John Watson down there, the correct answer is probably FUCK!"

All three of his teammates and Vance stared at Tim, none of them ever having heard him curse before. Tim looked back at each one of them and then nodded. Then he looked at Tony and Ziva. "So, ummm, congratulations?"

"Uh. Yeah. Thanks. Back at you," Tony said.

"Thanks."

"Nipple tattoos?"

Tim shrugged. "Couldn't do regular wedding rings, wanted something for our anniversary."

"What'd you get?" Tony asked.

"Claddagh."

"Can I see?" Ziva asked.

"No. When are you due?"

"September."

"That's eight months from now. How did you figure it out, Boss?"

"For the last two weeks she's been on decaf coffee."

"Oh."

Gibbs stood up and walked over to Tim, and gently slapped him upside the back of his head. "You didn't need to hide from me."

"Didn't want us getting reassigned or split up. He's been looking for an excuse to send me back to Cybercrime."

"Dating Miss… Dating Ms…Married to Ms. Sciuto wouldn't get you reassigned." Vance tripped over how to refer to the two of them. "You aren't her boss, she isn't yours, and you aren't in the same department. No problems. Then he turned to Tony and Ziva. "You two are a somewhat different story."

"A story that will be a moot point shortly. I have no desire to try being a field agent while pregnant. I was going to ask for a transfer soon."

Tony's eyes are wide. "You were?"

"What else could I do? I will not be in shape to chase down the bad guys soon."

"But…"

"But what, Tony?"

"I… just… we didn't… Could we not do this in the middle of the bullpen with everyone watching?"

"My office is free," Gibbs added.

"People are going to want to use the elevator at some point, Boss," Tim said, having an idea of where this conversation might be going and fairly sure it wasn't going to be short.

"David, DiNozzo, go home, sort it out, come back tomorrow with a plan for me. McGee, you and Miss… Ms Sciuto have some paperwork you need to fill out. We're supposed to disclose the fact that you two live together every time you're both witnesses on the same case."

"Yes, sir."

"Gibbs, get to autopsy and find out if we're going to have to prepare for Holmes to go nuclear."

Gibbs nodded and headed toward the elevator.

Vance sidled over to Tim's desk.

"Thank you. I'm sure that wasn't comfortable."

Tim shrugged. "We've all got secrets, none of mine are that big."

Vance nodded. And Tim began to wonder what skeletons might be hiding in Leon's closet.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why me?" Tim asked

Gibbs gave him the _Come on, I know you aren't that stupid, so stop acting like it_ look_._

"Fine. Teach me to ever stand up for you guys again."

Gibbs grinned at him. "No good deed goes unpunished. Go find him, talk to him, and see if you can get him to do some work around here."

"On it, Boss," Tim said as he headed off to the smoker's exile behind the parking lot.

Sherlock was leaning against the brick wall, head back, three cigarette butts littering the ground around him, fourth lovingly held between his lips as he inhaled with a vengeance.

"Been a while, huh?"

"How astute."

"Give me one." Sherlock shook a Morley out and handed it to Tim. He lit it and inhaled easily. "It's closer to a quarter of a pack a month, and only after a really bad case or really good sex."

"And really bad cases tend to lead to really good sex at the office which is why you have them here instead of at home."

"Yep." Another long inhale, nicotine zipping through his system. The first one after a long time always feels really good. "Plus they don't feel as good if you smoke a whole bunch of them at once, and it's easier to limit myself if they're here instead of at home."

"I'll take your word for it."

They smoked silently for a moment.

"Where's John?"

"That is the question, now, isn't it?"

"But that wasn't him on the slab?"

"No."

"Help us figure out who the man on the slab is and how he got there, and I'll look for John."

Sherlock tried to look coolly down at Tim, but that didn't quite work because they're the same height. So he settled for verbal disdain. "Three brain cells does not mean you're equipped to find John."

Tim's spent years being intimidated by people who had spent their entire lives honing the craft of intimidation. Skinny dude with a posh voice and a bad attitude wasn't going to do it for him. So instead of going pale and stammering, he said, "Because you with all twenty-seven billion of them are doing such a great job of it."

Sherlock actually glared at him.

"He's been missing what, three weeks now?"

"Yes."

"He didn't just leave, did he?"

"No."

"You're sure? I can't imagine you're easy to live with."

Sherlock inclined his head at that, probably as close as he gets to nodding in agreement. "I'm not easy to live with. He still wouldn't just leave."

"Uh huh. He your boyfriend?"

"And that would matter why? Will you look harder for him if he's my lover, or will that make you call me a nancy poof and bury the case?"

"Doesn't matter who or what you sleep with, if you're my case, I'll put everything into solving it. I'm just curious."

"Why?"

"You act like you care for him. But you also look cold enough it's hard to believe you care for anything. So I'm curious. And I'm asking because I can't just look at you and see the answer."

"Try. You see more than you think."

"You're wrecked. I can see that. Haven't had any solid sleep in days, possibly the entire three weeks. Probably haven't eaten well, either, but you're skinny enough that might be normal. You're here looking for him, and that's not normal. Tells me you love John. Doesn't tell me if he's your best friend, pseudo-brother, or lover."

"What's the stupid one of?"

It takes Tim a second to realize Sherlock is asking about his tattoos. "Why?"

"Even I can't see through clothing."

"Heart with Mom in the middle, on my ass. Is John your lover?"

"As close as I'll ever get." Sherlock inhales deeply on his cigarette.

"What does that mean?"

"What's the most personal one?"

"Is this what we're going to do, trade information?"

"Until I get bored."

"Wonderful." Tim unbuckled his watch, showing off the slim band of knot work in black and red circling his right wrist. "My wedding band."

"And she wears the same mark under her wrist cuff?"

"Yes. Tell me about you and John."

"We live together, share a home and a bed, have sex on occasion, less often than he'd like, but as often as I can manage it. He loves me. If I'm capable of love, I love him. More realistically, I'm obsessed with him. He's my latest, best drug."

"That's harsh."

"Do I look like a warm or fuzzy person to you?"

"No. Aspergers?"

"Highly functional sociopath."

Tim's eyebrows shot up. "Even better. What happened?"

"Why are you scared of your Boss?"

"Because I have three brain cells to rub together. If you aren't afraid of Gibbs, you're stupid or insane, and I'm neither."

"Goth Girl isn't."

"The lack of food and sleep is showing. Takes two to keep a marriage secret, and trust me, if she wasn't scared, too, we wouldn't have been hiding."

Sherlock seemed to think about that for a moment. "Three weeks ago we went to bed. Next morning I woke up and started composing. It took me two days to notice something was off."

"Two days?"

"I was composing." Sherlock looked at Tim like that should be a sufficient answer.

Tim was looking back at him like he's insane. "Uh huh… Is that supposed to be an excuse?"

"It's just who I am. Minor details don't matter, get forgotten instantly, and tracking time when I'm not on a case is one of those things."

"How do you know it was two days?"

"My mobile battery was full when I went to bed that night, and when I went to text him, it died on me. Two days."

"Okay. What did you do next?"

"Told Mrs. Hudson to text him."

"And?"

"Got back his number wasn't in service."

"Interesting." Tim noticed something about what Sherlock said. "You didn't actually notice he was missing until the text."

"No. He works at a surgery on occasion, goes out to the Pub, helps Lestrad on cases. I thought he was out. Texted to let him know we were out of milk."

"Two full days, you didn't see or hear him, and you just didn't notice he wasn't there?"

"I was composing."

Tim couldn't fathom trying a relationship with someone who didn't notice if you're even in the room for two solid days. "Why do you think he didn't just leave you?"

"His clothing was gone, his computer, gone, his phone, gone, his bank records, gone, his NHS records both as a person and as a doctor, gone, his military service records, gone. Someone erased every trace of him. It's possible he'd leave me. It's not possible that he'd erase every trace of his existence to get away from me."

Tim was starting to get a bad feeling about this. Either he was staring at a kidnapping, in which case John needed help, or he was staring at an abused lover trying desperately trying to get away, and he needed to stay the hell away from it.

"Are you sure? If he wanted to get free of you, really free, he'd have to do that, right?"

"He'd have to die."

"Shit." Tim stared at him with wide eyes. The bad feeling got more intense. He needed to do some extra legwork on this before really hunting for John.

Sherlock tilted his head a little, finished his cigarette and tossed the butt on the ground, and said, "You're scared of me now, too."

"You're terrifying."

"You're not nearly as stupid as you look. Seven brain cells."

"Thanks," Tim said, looking deeply disturbed by the compliment. "If someone completely erased his electronic existence, I can figure out who did it."

"Ha."

"Try me. I've hacked your government before, doing it again, not an issue."

"Why would I need to hack what I've got open access to?"

"Because you still don't know what happened to John."

Sherlock lifted another cigarette from the pack. Tim took it from him, and put it back. "Go back inside, help the rest of the team with the John Doe. Try not to piss them off so bad the Gibbs kills you. I'll look into John Watson."


	3. Chapter 3

"You look worried. Is it because of us getting dumped out of hiding in front of everyone?" Abby asked as Tim headed into the lab.

He walked over and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder for a minute. "Believe it or not, that's actually pretty low on the list of worries right now."

"So what's at the top of it?" she asked, rubbing his back.

"Right now, ethical problem. Sherlock is here looking for John. Great. Missing person, we find them all the time. But… I'm not entirely sure John's missing so much as ran screaming away from Sherlock and is trying to stay hidden."

"Okay, sit, talk to me, what's got you thinking that?"

They head to her office, he sits in her desk chair and she started to lean against the desk, and then realized everyone in the office knew they were married by now, so settled into his lap.

"This is nice." He kissed her shoulder, enjoying her body against his.

"Yeah. So tell me…"

"John's missing, has been for three weeks. Sherlock's worried, or whatever his emotional equivalent is. They live together. We know that from the blog. They're lovers; Sherlock told me that. It took him two day to notice John was gone."

"Two days?"

"Yeah. He was 'composing' and just didn't notice the time go by."

"Uh…" Abby looked appalled.

"Yeah. He says he's a highly functional sociopath, and I don't know exactly what that means, but apparently having his head so far up his ass he can see his own tonsils is part of it. So he decides to have some tea or something and notices they're out of milk, tries to text John, have him pick some up, but his cell is dead, so he gets the neighbor to text John, which is when he finds out his number's been disconnected. Apparently that's when he noticed that he hadn't seen John in two days, all of his clothing and things were gone. They dug deeper and every trace of the man is gone."

"And you're thinking he might have run away."

"You've read the blog. If you were in a bad relationship with Sherlock Holmes, how else, short of killing Holmes, could you get out of it? And he basically admitted that if John wanted out, he'd have to die to get out."

"Oh."

Tim's head dropped back and he stared at the ceiling. "So, if I try to find this guy, am I doing him any favors? And if I don't…"

"Check into it. Find out how he vanished, and if it looks like he's running away, don't tell Sherlock what you found."

"How do you suggest I do that? I'm a bad liar to begin with, and he practically reads minds."

"Don't lie. If John ran, go hard ass on him and refuse to tell him what's up. Yell at him about how if you want a lover to stick around paying attention to them is important."

"Okay. So what are you working on right now?"

"Not too much. Paperwork mostly. Running the coagulation experiment."

"Good. You feel like reading all of the latest blog entries, seeing if there's some clue as to what happened to John, anything that hints that he might have run away? My guess is short of slapping Sherlock upside the head with a two by four and screaming 'I'm leaving you, you jerk!' Sherlock wouldn't notice if John was dissatisfied with their relationship."

"You really don't like him."

"Not at all. I mean, yeah, standing there and letting him tell my, our, life story to everyone wasn't fun, but he outed Tony, and I don't think there's a term for what he did to Ziva, and if I let him get going on Gibbs they'd have a federal investigator down here so fast our heads would spin, and God alone knows what Vance is hiding. He came over and personally thanked me for keeping Sherlock busy. So, not only is the guy a raving asshole, but since my secrets are all out, it looks like I just became the official Sherlock Handler."

"Great." Abby's eyes went wide. "You don't think they'll make us put him up?"

Tim shuddered a little. "I really hope not…"

"You two look comfy," Gibbs said, voice dry, standing in the doorway to Abby's office.

Tim jerked for a second, about to flinch away from Gibbs seeing the two of them in such a compromising position, but the rest of the day came back to him and he just said, "Yeah, we are. Problem?"

Gibbs shook his head, entering and leaning against the desk. "No. I kept thinking you'd tell me when you were ready."

Abby looked up at him. "You've told Tony about fifty times that dating co-workers is off limits. You chewed him out over EJ to the point of basically telling him that if he wanted to stay on your team he had to leave her alone. Why do you think we'd have told you?"

He looked at Abby. "You tell me almost everything. And I told that to DiNozzo. Have I ever said anything to either of you about dating co-workers?"

Tim looked at Abby and she looked back at him, and they both looked at Gibbs. "No."

He nods and then kissed Abby's cheek. "Congratulations. When we've gotten rid of the insufferable asshole, I'd like to take you both to dinner to celebrate."

Tim's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. Might be three years later, but you get married, there should be some celebrating."

"Thanks. So, ummm… where is the insufferable asshole?" Tim asked.

"He stormed down to autopsy, demanded to see the body again, looked at it for a minute, asked to see the pictures, and then declared it a suicide and told us we were all idiots barely capable of walking upright because we couldn't see it."

"Boss, the vic had his head cut off, and was found in a locked room with no weapons."

"As we all pointed out to him. Then he spent the next six minutes ripping all three of us apart. Made Palmer cry. Then Ducky lit into him." Gibbs smiled at that memory. It was pretty funny to see Ducky let his temper loose. "Finally Palmer pulled it together, kept looking at the pics, and saw what Sherlock was pointing at. Unfortunately it looks like he's right and it was a suicide. But you and I have a road trip to Norfolk before we can prove that."

"Where is he now?"

"I gave him my cigarettes and sent him back to the smoker's corner. Hopefully that'll keep him occupied for a while."

"You smoke?" Tim asked.

"Not since before you got here."

"You sent him out there with eight-year-old cigarettes?"

"Nah. I buy a new pack every few months. Like having it but not opening it."

"Oh. One pack?"

"Yeah."

"Rate he was going through mine, I figure he's good for about two hours. Someone's got to keep an eye on him." They both look at Abby, and if it wasn't for the fact that she was sitting on Tim's lap, she would have been trying to run away.

"No."

"You can lock him in here if he's too much of a jerk," Tim said.

"If Ziva was here, I'd give him to her…" Gibbs didn't have to finish that sentence. Ziva and Tony had a lot to discuss tonight and wouldn't be coming back today.

"Fine. But he's not staying with us. He's going to your house tonight!"

Gibbs gritted his teeth. "Fine."

Abby stood up, and Tim followed, then kissed her quickly. "See if you can get him talking about John. Maybe you can get a better read on if he's missing voluntarily or not."

"Sure." They turned to head off and she said, "Bring me back the mystery decapitating weapon that'll take a head clean off and hide in plain sight!"

Gibbs smiled at her and they headed off.


	4. Chapter 4

They were in the car, heading toward Norfolk when Tim finally asked, "So what is the mystery decapitating weapon?"

"According to Palmer it's some sort of string. Really thin, really strong, carbon fiber or something. Supposedly we won't even be able to see the damn thing, just the hook that Sherlock noticed in the picture."

"We're going to Norfolk to look for a hook in a ceiling with an invisible string on it?"

"Yes."

"Boss, no offense, but the last time I saw that plot I was in college playing Call of Cthulu with a bunch of my buddies and the string was a the GM being a complete and utter dick."

"English, McGee."

"String's fiction. They don't exist in the real world. They're working on them, and I think some labs have gotten a few of them up to an inch or two long, but that's not going to do this."

"That's what Palmer said."

"So we are doing this why?"

"Because according to Ducky a string like that could have made the wound that took the head off and explained why we ended up with the spatter where we found it, and it's a good answer for how he ended up decapitated in a locked room."

"If the string is there, then I suppose tracking it down won't be too hard. Can't be too many places that can make something like that, and people who have access to them have to be even fewer and further apart."

"Yeah. Tell me about Holmes and Watson."

So McGee did, starting with the blog, and how Watson was apparently Holmes' roommate and chronicler. They weren't precisely private detectives, but that was a good enough term to get the idea across. From there he got into their personal lives, and his doubts about if finding John Watson was a good plan.

When he wrapped that up he asked, "So what's the famous gut have to say about Sherlock Holmes?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Needed to be spanked a whole lot more or a whole lot less as a kid, but damned if I know which."

"He says he's a sociopath."

Gibbs just shook his head. One of the things he liked about working mostly with military people was that guys like that can't get in. Regular cops see all sorts of flavors of nutjobs, NCIS, not so much so. Sure, it's not like there are none, but they're a whole lot rarer.

Norfolk was still an hour away: that left a lot of time and a lot of secrets now in the open.

"So… Is Dorneget going to be Ziva's replacement?"

Gibbs shuddered a little at that. "I hope not."

"Maybe just the three of us until she knows if she's going to come back or not?" There were female NCIS agents with kids at home. Just, not a lot of them.

Gibbs shook his head. "Not on the same team. Not allowed. And that's why I've told Tony fifty times not to date his partner."

"So, you knew, or you told Sherlock you knew, why didn't you stop it?"

"How? Start feeding him saltpeter?"

"Doesn't work."

Gibbs stares at him in confusion.

"All it does is mess with your blood pressure if you get too much of it. Won't effect libido."

Gibbs nodded. "No way to stop it. Just had to hope they wouldn't screw it up."

Tim was watching Tony when Sherlock said Ziva was pregnant, and he saw the way every drop of blood drained out of his face and then all came screaming back a second later when the full force of the fear and anger hit.

"It's screwed up, isn't it?"

Gibbs looked away from traffic toward Tim. "Ya think?"

"Great."

They're quiet for several minutes.

"Boss, if we get any choice in the matter, I'd rather we kept Ziva and Tony went off on his own team."

"I know."

"He's been ready for a while and…" And Tim doesn't know how to bring up the whole if Tony really does have a crush on you maybe getting him out of your immediate circle if he's trying to make a long term relationship work with Ziva is a good plan.

But it looks like Gibbs gets it. "I know, McGee. As long as no one said anything… But it's been said now."

"Yeah. So…"

"We'll see. She's right, she won't be in shape for it soon. It'd be one thing if she was tech and you were muscle, but that's not how it is and you two can't switch jobs. No matter what, it won't just be the two of us for any length of time."

"Dorneget really isn't that bad."

"I know. He's green and nervous, and I'm too old for that. You want to break him in, go for it. I don't want to deal with a guy who doesn't know the basics, not anymore."

They spent the rest of the ride talking about potential new team members, neither of them very happy about the changes that were coming soon.


End file.
